


Meet Me Beyond The Fiery Gates

by AHaresBreath



Category: 300 (2006), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Ancient Greece, Doomed Love, M/M, Sparta - Freeform, Thermopylae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:30:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHaresBreath/pseuds/AHaresBreath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of the final day of battle at Thermopylae two young men, a Spartan and an Athenian, find each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet Me Beyond The Fiery Gates

**Author's Note:**

> So 300 has been on tv a few times recently and I keep catching odd bits of it, and obviously I can't be confronted with that many naked men without imagining Merthur there.

Arthur sucked in a lungfull of the foul air and gritted his teeth as the Athenian boy pushed a slender bone needle through his flesh, closing the ugly wound on his thigh. The boy frowned and muttered to himself as he worked, he had scraped out the wound, sand and pus and dried blood, but he was an experienced healer and he knew as well as Arthur that the blood was already poisoned.

"You should have come to me sooner," he tutted, strong fingers working the needle and thread in and out, drawing the ragged skin together as best he could.

Arthur met his eye and smiled grimly. "As long as I can stand, and fight, it doesn't matter, just do what you can."

The boy huffed and tied off the thread, grabbing Arthur's wrist as he moved to stand. 

"Patience," he admonished, pulling a bundle from his pack, "I'm not done yet."

He took out a vial of fresh scented oil and pouring a small amount into his palm began working it into the heated flesh of Arthur's thigh. The clean smell cut through the stench of rotting corpses, reminding Arthur of spring mornings in the citrus groves of home, training in the soft grass while his mother sewed and sang softly, a gentle pride in her smile as she watched him go through his movements.

He sighed and leaned in towards the Athenian, his skin was pale and looked soft as a woman's, the grime of march and camp showing starkly against it's whiteness. 

The boy's fingers worked higher, digging cooly into his muscles. He flushed prettily and dipped his eyelashes. 

"Would you like me to..." He gestured to Arthur's groin where he hadn't realised his cock lay thick and hard. He nodded, the thought of those skilful fingers on him bringing him to full arousal, but the boy did not grasp his cock in the way he was expecting, the way Spartan men pleasured themselves and each other, rough and quick and functional. Instead he bowed his head and lapped at the tip, inky lashes fanning across his high cheekbones. When he wrapped his full pink lips around the head Arthur had to fight the urge to grab his hair and force himself further into that sweet, wet heat. He restrained himself and allowed the boy to set his own pace, and before long he fully appreciated his methods, the gentle sucks and flicks coupled with the slow slide of his lips while slick fingers massaged his balls were combining to bring Arthur to a height of bliss he had never felt before. When he saw that the boy's other hand had reached under his tunic to frantically bring himself off he gasped and spilled, pumping his seed into the tight heat. The Athenian groaned around him as he too came, sending ripples of sensation through his overstimulated flesh. 

They lay together that night, stroking and kissing, enjoying the comfort of each other's bodies. This was all so new to Arthur and he wanted to savour every moment.

"It isn't enough time." He whispered as the first rays of light branched over the Persian encampment.

The clatter and shout of men preparing for battle drowned out the boy's reply as they stood. He was shaking though, staring at his trembling hand as if it belonged to someone else.

"I'm afraid," he said, silent tears streaking down his cheeks.

Arthur shook his head, he had no reply to that.

Still shaking the boy laughed and folded himself into Arthur's arms, when he kissed him the salt of his tears tasted like the finest wine.

"Look for me on the other side," the boy whispered.

"I will." 

"And I'll have my arse greased and ready for you." He choked on the words, but he was smiling.

"You'd better," Arthur laughed, smacking the boy's pert buttocks. "Now get back to your merchants and philosophers, I have to find my men."

He stalked away, cherishing the throb in his thigh as the only remembrance he could carry of the Athenian boy whose name he hadn't even asked. Turning, he saw the slender figure still watching him, clutching his arms around himself to quell his trembling. Arthur raised his spear in salute to the brave lad. He would look for him, he would find him again in heaven or in hell and let Hades himself try and stand in his way.

He turned to face the sunrise and roared his defiance. Today he would die, and it would be a fucking glorious death.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for complete historical inaccuracy, there doesn't seem to be any mention of a force present from Athens, but I'd already started imagining Merlin hanging around the Academy with Gaius as a Socratic figure, so I decided to just go with it ;)
> 
> I'm not a historian, I'm just here for the pretty boys...


End file.
